Mr Blue Eyes (Chubby Wheatley x Chell)
by nerdvous
Summary: Wheatley is abruptly relocated to Aperure and transformed into a human by the evil AI, GLaDOS. But that's not the end of it.


_Author's notes:_

_First of all, thank you for considering reading my FanFiction! I hope you enjoy it!_

_Edited by tumblr user rainbowduckdecoy and title suggested by tumblr user zijora._

_The idea of Chell having a bakery was inspired by Waffle's fic, Blue Sky._

* * *

The collective hum of the facility, the suppressed whirring of the nearby machines, all of the noises that were constantly present in the atmosphere of Aperture seemed repressed as GLaDOS pondered, mostly still, in her chamber. Robot test subjects simply were not the same – so… _different_ from humans in many facets, she thought. Aperture possessed the technology to create rather realistic robots, but under their outer layers of coded personality, they were ultimately the same. That's why she had ultimately decided to discard them, the two robots, Alpha and P-Body. Humans, while not as competent (save a few), were less predictable, and simply _more amusing_ than their bionic counterparts. GLaDOS obviously was not concerned with the morality of acquiring human test subjects, but she needed to figure out, _how_? She could try "recruiting" humans from the streets like aperture had done not so long ago, but by now there were hardly any humans in the facility; it would be difficult to execute such a plan. She _had_ more or less promised Chell that she would let her retain her freedom, and besides, the reach of her all-powerful command did not practically extend beyond the facility. She growled. Wait. Chell. What if…

Wheatley started as he was interrupted from his current task of staring off into the distance by the beeping of his Emergency Radio Contact System. Though startled, he managed to figure out how to answer before the beeping stopped.

"Hallo?" he asked, his voice conveying a combination of nervous, excited, and confused tones. There were only two people he knew that would even be a little likely to contact him, and the idea of having to go back _there_ was so frightening that even though he was lonely, he would almost prefer to stay in space.

"It's been a long time." Her voice was just as uncanny and monotone as he had remembered it. He flinched.

"Oh, you. Well! How've you been? I-I've been great, well, except for the being trapped in space part, that I would really rather avoid. Um…"

"Would you like to come back?" she sounded bored, like a customer service agent.

"Come back?!" Was this woman insane? What a question.

"To Aperture," she added. "I would love to test with you. Well, watch you test, really."

He shuddered in his battered shell. Test? "And-and, how in bloody hell are we going to do that?"

"You'll see." That voice would've provoked a shudder in even the most hardened soul.

"You know, uh, how about no. How about bloody no. Why don't you just… leave me in space? I like it here actually, uh, with its stars, its vast expanse of nothingness-"

"And why would I do that?"

"B-because, you know what, I absolutely love Aperture, better not let me in there, haha! I'll have a blast, and then what would you be able to do to m-make me miserable?"

She chuckled: a dry, simulated laugh. "You'll come back the same way you ended up there."

"Ah… you mean… er, don't know if you've noticed, kind of hard to pick up on really, but I'm not awfully close to the moon anymore. Just… in orbit, really."

Those were the last words exchanged before the smallish off-white core was pulled from behind with great force. "Ahh?! What's this?" he screamed, but before he could quite fathom what had happened, he was in a small, white room with no windows or furnishings save a rusty chair and an old poster, the only discernible text was "DON'T PANIC" in large lettering. It was too late for that. He was fully panicking. "What? Where…? Oh no. Oh _no._ No!" He scanned the room frantically, the area distorted by his broken optic. There was no door. Not that he could move anyways, he was on the ground, unaided by a management rail or a stoic woman. "Glad you could join us," came her voice from everywhere, "don't worry, this won't hurt. Excessively." Wheatley hardly had time to give one more nightmarish scream before a bionic arm emerged from a panel on the ceiling. That was when his power turned off.

* * *

Wheatley groaned. He vaguely remembered something bad happening, something with Aperture perhaps, but figured it was just a nightmare. That was, until he opened what he thought was his optic channel. The first thing he noticed was that he was not in space, but in some sort of room. His optic no longer had a crack in it… in fact, he had two channels. Speaking of that, something about his body felt very different. He could feel the presence of something very unlike his old, spherical shell. He tried to move something, and ended up smacking himself in the face. He yelped.

"I see someone's awake. It's about time." GLaDOS intoned, her voice resonating throughout the chamber.

It wasn't a dream after all.

"W-what? What have you done to me? How long have I been out?"

"Fifteen days, approximately." She replied.

He grimaced. "But why? What were you doing to me? I feel proper skew-whiff!"

"We have been working on synthesizing human bodies here at Aperture for years. We finally seem to have perfected that technology now, seeing as you're not dead."

"You mad woman! Are you implying you've made me into, into one of _them_? Bloody hell, how do you even do that?" He felt what he would call "headlights" in the head he now head.

"I won't try to explain the finer details of it. You wouldn't understand."

Wheatley was panicked, scared, and offended all at the same time.

"I-I'll get you back for this!" It was a hollow threat.

"Well, I'm going to leave you alone for now. Put on your jumpsuit and portal gun when you're ready to start testing – they're in the closet," she paused, "but be careful. I spent hours searching for a suit to fit someone of your… stature."

"Wait! I really meant it! I'm going to… storm into your chamber, a-and, tear you out of your… socket… and…" He sighed; he felt like crying. He needed a sort of plan to escape; he couldn't just let himself in her reaches. It was only a matter of time until she did something seriously bad, he thought. But first things first.

After several tries, Wheatley finally managed to pull himself upright to a sitting position. He looked around, craning his neck awkwardly. He was in a clean room with polished, white walls, a bed, two doors, and a few pieces of machinery. He examined his wrists, one of which was hooked up to an IV, and the other to what he assumed was monitoring his pulse. The thing that stood out the most to him, though, was his waist. He was a bit pudgy at the middle and his tummy lay slightly on his lap. He knew that humans needed to have a certain amount of the stuff – body fat, that's what it was called – to survive, but he didn't understand why his body was synthesized with _so much_. He gingerly took the IV out (he figured it wasn't necessary), whimpering a bit, and prodded his stomach. He jiggled it and gave a wry smile. He figured he had more important things to worry about at the moment. Very slowly, with much trial and error, he stood, though only for a second. His legs were weak and new, not expecting how difficult supporting his body proved to be, and he fell to the solid floor. "Ow!" he exclaimed – he could still feel pain, as it turned out. He tried again, taking it more slowly, steadying himself along the way. Once he was confident enough in a standing position, he stumbled to the closet door and stripped off his thin hospital gown.

It took quite some time and a massive amount of coordination on Wheatley's part to try on the glaringly orange, snug-fitting jumpsuit and its matching boots. He examined himself in the mirror in the interior of the closet. He had messy blonde hair and thick, circular glasses that accentuated the roundness of his face. He was also rather tall, but looked shorter due to his size. "I look a might bit ridiculous," he commented on his reflection. Wheatley was used to talking to himself, especially during his time in space: Space Core wasn't much of a conversationalist. He took the portal gun and slipped his right hand into the back. He flexed his arm and closed and opened the claw. "Just like Chell," he said with a chuckle. He could almost always manage to convey an air of optimism, even if he was just synthesized into a human in a laboratory under the control of an insane AI.

There was no exit to the room except for a door which opened into a narrow, poorly lighted hallway, at the end of which was a chamberlock which Wheatley assumed led to his first test chamber. Hopefully. His plan was simple: keep testing until an opening of some sort, any way out of the Test Chambers, presented itself, and he would figure out the rest from there. Wheatley, as may be evident, was not very good at planning ahead.

* * *

"This first test I composed just for you. I wouldn't want your new human brain to hurt too much." Said GLaDOS.

"Um… not necessary, but… thanks anyways!" Wheatley replied. A true master of comebacks.

"Oh, also, be careful. I wouldn't want you to break the aerial faith plate."

"Will keep that in mind," Wheatley said under his breath.

Upon scanning the chamber, Wheatley was able to confirm that there was in fact an aerial faith plate. There was also a ledge with a Storage Cube on it to the right of the faith plate. Next to the chamberlock there was a red button, which he assumed opened it. _Alright_, he thought, _this doesn't seem too deadly. I mean, unless she set a trap. I really hope she hasn't set a trap. _He stepped up to the aerial faith plate and hesitated. _Does she really think I might break it?_ He stepped on it carefully and…

"Aahhhh-oh-god-please-I-don't-want-to-die!" he screamed as he was sent flailing through the air. Right when he was ready to make contact with the wall, he was enveloped in a spiral of blue light (an Excursion Funnel) that exuded from under a panel which gently led him back to his starting position.

"Do be more careful next time," warned GLaDOS.

The panel snapped back into place and Wheatley fell to the ground, disoriented but unscathed. "Serious lack of foresight there," he said with a nervous laugh. GLaDOS was being uncharacteristically nice. Just what was she trying to do? Wheatley hoped he wouldn't have to find out.

"Right. This looks easy enough. I just need to get on that ledge. Oi, what if I just, er, utilize momentum?" Wheatley still had a preference for thinking out loud. Aiming the gun shakily, he shot an orange portal on the panel in front of the plate, the one he had nearly united with moments before. He shot the blue one on a panel across from the ledge. He stepped on the plate, more confidently this time, and was off with a slight creak. He laughed a bit – it was actually quite fun, this flying thing. Thanks to his long fall boots, he was able to go through the portal and land safely on the ledge. The trip reminded him of the transportation tubes, like the one he rode in with Chell moments before he was attached to the central core. He frowned. He didn't like to be reminded of being corrupted by the central core, or rather the horrid things he had done whereupon. Taking the cube to its requisite spot and walking through the chamberlock, he was greeted with another insult.

"You have all the coordination of a newborn child."

It was just the beginning of a very long, artificially extended day.

* * *

GLaDOS, on the other hand, was enjoying this. Not only did she solve her problem of not having any viable test subjects, it served a decent punishment for Wheatley, at least for now. She would let him ingest some tasteless nutritional bars and water or sleep as needed – things he required now, as a human. Watching him, the being that was the cause of her troubles at one point, struggle through the tests was quite satisfying to her.

* * *

The hours dragged on – Wheatley was not sure of the actual amount of time he had spent in the testing tracks – and his optimism for ever finding a chance to escape was starting to dampen. He finally understood how Chell felt having to stand up to all of that abuse, and it evoked a new wave of sympathy in him. So it was a welcome relief when he reached this particular chamber. It wasn't much different from the what seemed like hundreds of others he had completed, in fact he had almost missed it himself, but sure enough there was an opening in one of the walls. It would have been a tight fit even for Chell, but it was a chance to escape and that was what mattered. He shot a portal behind the security camera and watched its light give out as it fell to the ground. Any way he could distance himself from her was good, he thought. It took some effort for someone of his size to fit through the aperture, but he eventually squeezed through. He landed on a short catwalk. He peered over the edge and immediately regretted it. "Agh, that's a long way down!" He continued walking straight, taking care not to look down, and shortly came across a door.

Inside this small, new room was a desk, a tiny bookshelf with mostly instructional manuals in it, some unidentified mechanical components, and an old-looking desktop computer. _A computer, that's a start_, he thought. Taking a seat on the black office chair, he powered up the computer.

* * *

Chell looked out the only window in her kitchen. Afternoon was ending and evening was closing in. She was finishing cleaning some dishes left over from that day's baking, but she wasn't sure what she would do after that.

It had been years since she last tread the floors of the test chambers, smelled the faint burning stench of the incinerator, or heard that intimidating monotone _voice_ that still made appearances in her nightmares. Her nightmares, which plagued her nearly every night, even though she had since convinced herself that she would never see anything from Aperture ever again.

By the time she had finished drying the last pan; she hung up her apron and decided to take a shower. There was flour clinging uncomfortably to her hair and skin. She finished showering hastily – she didn't use much in the way of beauty products – and changed into a more comfortable outfit of pajama pants and a blank t-shirt. She put her hair into its characteristic ponytail despite it being wet, for she didn't want it to drip everywhere. Walking over to her computer room, she decided to check the weather and her instant messaging account on her modest desktop computer before finding something to eat... Not expecting much, she logged onto her account through the IM window which opened every time she started up the computer to find…

7 missed voice calls from user **itsmewheatley**

The very notion alone that she had missed seven calls was surprising enough, let alone the fact that the person's username was "itsmewheatley" – how would anyone she knew know about him? With her attention aroused, she listened to the one message left by him:

"_Hallo! It's me, Wheatley, I mean, as you can tell by the username. You haven't answered my last calls which is understandable, considering you aren't online… sound. So, bottom line is, I'm not in space anymore! But I am in Aperture. And _she _managed to somehow, er, turn me into a human. Not dead yet, just have been testing, but I think that may be next, considering… I snuck out of the testing tracks to send you this message. In essence, what I mean is that I'm in quite the awful situation here, and, and, it'd be great if you could maybe consider helping me out here. I can understand, I mean, I wouldn't want to come back here if I were you. But I really am sorry. Sorry for being awful, manipulative, monstrous… please. I really don't want to die, o-or, whatever worse fate she could be planning for me._" His voice was shaky and had the slightly fuzzy quality of being recorded by a cheap microphone, but she remembered it clearly. It was him.

Chell's heart raced. There were so many questions unanswered. It was true that most of her anger over Wheatley had subsided, she figured the terrible things he had done were mostly due to him being corrupted, but was she really willing to risk her life for this ex- Intelligence Dampening Sphere? She bit her lip, a habit she was not sure how or when had developed. Of course she would. Without him, she might've remained in suspension for the rest of her life – or even worse, testing with GLaDOS. Furthermore, he was her friend, perhaps the first friend she could remember having. The guilt of leaving him to a similar fate would be harrowing. She decided he could have a second chance. _One_.

* * *

"You left the test chambers without my permission, and that can't be ignored." GLaDOS's voice seemed to demonstrate a suppressed anger.

Wheatley was silent for once, giving a sulky look to his feet.

"As punishment," she said with a huff of sorts, "you will be sentenced to some time in the room where the robots scream at you for no reason. Good luck."

* * *

Chell changed her clothes, put on her boots, packed a few items she thought she might need, and headed out the door. She tried to keep a low profile, hoping that nobody in town would notice her or ask any questions. Interruptions were unwelcome – she needed all the time she could get. The wheat field was outlined in the horizon, despite the waning light of the evening. She wasn't far from the facility now.

She hesitated at the entrance, unsure. There was a chance that, despite her diligence, neither of them would make it back out alive. Chell usually didn't hesitate at all- always swift and decisive with her actions.

Now was not the time for uncertainties.

* * *

Sitting on an uncomfortable chair in the dim room, the screams of the robots had started to melt together in a background noise, allowing Wheatley to form mostly coherent thoughts. He wished he was still a core, not only because he still wasn't used to having a human body, but as a core he could perhaps turn off his auditory receptors. All he could do was cover his ears and that didn't make much of a difference.

The past month or so had been so surreal to him. He wondered if it all was a dream. So many things happened that he didn't understand. What if his whole life was just a dream, and he was just some lines of code in a laboratory somewhere? What if Chell wasn't even alive anymore, if GLaDOS turned on her and murdered her after he was sent into space?

His head hurt.

Wheatley had nearly dozed off when he heard a _crash_. He looked around anxiously, and to his relief and surprise saw Chell climbing out of a freshly-made hole in the wall. She motioned for him to follow her, and as soon as he made it through the opening she grabbed his hand and started pulling him along through the mess of wires out to the catwalk.

"Ah, _brilliant_!" said Wheatley, "You came! Oh, thank you!"

Chell had no time for small talk. She knew that they had to keep running until they found an exit. There was no safe place in Aperture. Wheatley heard Chell's boots scrape against the floor as they approached a broken end in the catwalk. Without hesitation or even giving up her death grip on Wheatley's hand, she shot a portal near the catwalk above, and the other on the wall behind them. Without slowing their pace, they went through the portal and continued round the new catwalk.

"I think we can stop," Wheatley panted out, "for a moment. Get our bearings. Don't think she'll hurt us."

Chell let go of his hand, turning towards him, and he wiped his forehead. Looking at her in the light, she seemed healthier. Her skin lost its ashen undertone, the circles under her eyes gone, and she was less emaciated. He was about to ask, "What's our plan?" when he was interrupted by that awful coming-from-everywhere voice.

"Your efforts of escaping are pathetic."

"W-well so are yours of containing us!" he replied.

A cold, simulated chuckle resonated throughout the room.

Two robotic arms appeared from what seemed like nowhere, grabbed them, and dropped them into a transportation tube. Wheatley eyed Chell nervously. She searched for an exit but was able to provide no reassurance. Soon enough he could spot a door in front of them, and soon enough that door was open and they were in GLaDOS's chamber, the entrance shut definitively behind them.

"Every time either of you are here, you mess everything up." She said, looking to Wheatley then to Chell.

Chell's eyes narrowed.

"Which is why I'm letting you go. Completely. Leave."

On command, the elevator car rose to their level and the door opened.

"A-are you _serious_?" Wheatley asked. "Um, because, in any case, sounds like a proper trap to me."

"Honestly, I wanted to kill you. But truthfully, when the two of you are together, you are very near impossible to kill. That was why I had let Chell go. I'm tired of it. I want you gone."

Wheatley gave a look to Chell, who nodded slightly. They entered the elevator. Chell held her breath.

And released it.

Wheatley looked around at the wheat fields, the early morning light casting a breathtaking golden gleam throughout the area.

"I can't believe it, I'm actually free! For a while there I honestly thought I was a goner, and, and then you came and then GLaDOS picked us up and I really thought it was the end but then she let us go! And I'm alive! I never thought I would see outside, but it's beautiful. This is all so surreal. I don't even care that I'm a human anymore! Thank you, Chell…"

The next thing that happened was something Chell herself could not predict: she pulled him into a hug. That was enough to shut him up. His soft, hefty body pressing up against her was oddly comforting. The contact didn't last long, but that didn't put a damper on how shocked he was.

"I-I-I, w-what," blushing, he tried to gather his words, "what does that mean?"

"I missed you." Her tone was cold but not insincere.

"Oh… you _what_?" She could talk?

"Look. I'll never forget how you betrayed me and tried to kill me. But I still missed you."

"…Right."

* * *

Wheatley didn't realize just how tired he was until he reached Chell's small home. The hours of testing with little food or rest, during which he was running on adrenaline, had caught up with him. Detecting this, Chell offered for him to sleep in her bed to which he happily obliged. He barely had time to take off his jumpsuit and glasses before he fell asleep.

It wasn't until late in the afternoon when he woke. Shoving his glasses onto his face, he took a real look at the room around him. The walls were a pleasant pastel brown and there was a night stand with a lamp on it by his side, a closet across from him, and a weaved area rug next to the bed. There was one window which was concealed by lavender curtains. Not overly complicated. He took comfort in the fact that at the moment he was not obligated to _do_ anything, he could simply look around and reflect on the past few days. Wheatley was generally not a reflective person, but he appreciated the change. Distracted, he jumped slightly when he heard the door open.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" Chell was checking in on him for the second time that day.

"Er, no, just startled me. I was already awake. Say, I'm a bit peckish, though, mind bringing me something?"

She nodded and headed for the kitchen. The day had been going well enough for Chell; she spent most of it reading in peace. She didn't mind giving Wheatley another chance. It would take some getting used to, she supposed. She would have to introduce him to her friends and neighbors.

Chell sat the tray (which contained a piece of toast with jam and tea) down on the night stand and sat on the edge of the bed. Wheatley sat up with a heave and brought the cup of tea to his lips. The steam from the tea fogged up his glasses and he glanced around frantically for a moment.

"Ah, I forgot steam could do that. Used to happen with the ol' optic." He said with a chuckle. Chell chuckled a bit with him. He believed it was the first time he had heard her laugh.

Her eyes drifted to his tight Aperture undershirt. "We should buy some clothes for you tomorrow."

"Right," he said, pulling the covers over his body self-consciously.

"It's weird," he commented after taking a bite of the toast, "this eating thing. I mean not in a bad way, it feels good, but I'm not quite used to it." Multiple bits of human instinct had been instilled into him when he was synthesized into a human, but that didn't mean that they seemed quite normal yet.

Chell nodded.

She left after he finished, taking the dishes with her, and Wheatley, having nothing to do, soon fell asleep again. Chell resumed reading, and, was taken in the way books usually do, and finished the book at some point in the late evening. She almost headed towards her own bedroom, but remembered that Wheatley was still there, resting. She had a queen size bed and may have slept in the same bed with him had he been awake. She made a mental note to purchase another bed before tucking herself under her throw blanket, nestled comfortably on her couch.

* * *

"It's a lovely day out, isn't it?" said Wheatley to Chell as they strolled through the quaint neighborhood.

Chell couldn't disagree. It was sunny and quiet and rather pleasant. It was almost hard to believe that the town was just a few miles from a practical hell. They spent the rest of the walk in content silence, other the occasional bit of humming from Wheatley. There were many residences and cute little shops that Wheatley would have liked to visit, but he kindly refrained until reaching their destination. The wholesale shop was small with peeling floral wallpaper and a few old shelves accompanied by an antique bench.

"'Ello, Chell! Who's the bloke?" the middle-aged shopkeeper said happily. It was hard not to notice Wheatley, still tall and clad in the orange jumpsuit.

"Good morning, Randy," Chell greeted, "this is my friend from out of city, Wheatley."

"Hello!" said Wheatley, shaking the man's hand.

"Well, what can I do ya for?" Randy asked pleasantly.

"I need two pounds of flour and 5 ounces of cocoa powder." She replied.

"Sure thing, hold on." He said, getting up off his chair and heading to the shelves.

"What do we need that for?" Wheatley asked her quietly.

"I own a bakery."

"Oh. Right."

"That'll be five dollars, ma'am. Anything else?" the shopkeeper asked, his apparent happiness not waning.

"That'll be all. Thank you." She said, passing over a bill and taking the bag of baking ingredients.

Their next stop was the thrift shop which was a bit larger but just as shabby. Before the two could even make it to the men's section, they were stopped by a tall brunette girl with glasses.

"Hey! Chell! Who's the guy?" she spoke with a slight lisp.

"Hello, Jessica. He's my friend, Wheatley."

"'Friend', eh?" she gave a playful smile, but noticing that the two didn't seem interested in small talk, said, "Have a good day, then!"

"Everyone seems to be quite interested in me," said Wheatley with a laugh once they were out of earshot.

"It's a small town." She explained.

Once they reached the men's section, Wheatley took his time browsing the racks – as far as he knew, after all, there was no rush – attempting to make conversation with Chell every once in a while, though not knowing exactly what to talk about. Chell would occasionally point out certain articles of clothing for him, but mostly just strolled the aisles idly. She was beginning to feel dreadfully bored when Wheatley finally announced:

"I'm done, now what?"

"You try them on."

"Ah, that makes sense. Wait, right here?"

"No, in the fitting rooms." She would've taken his hand if he weren't carrying approximately a dozen articles of clothing, but in the absence of that, simply had him follow her.

"Show me when you've tried something on," she requested, "I'd like to see."

The first thing he tried on was a white button-down shirt which fit him well paired with beige slacks.

"How do I look?" he asked Chell.

"Good," she said with a smile.

Wheatley chose mostly baggy clothes to hide his pudge – he wasn't quite sure why he was ashamed of it, but felt vaguely that Chell would prefer him thinner. Which was, in fact, wrong. By the end of the shopping it was well into the afternoon and he had picked out a wardrobe of mostly work shirts and slacks, accompanied by a sweater and a few ties, as well as a shiny pair of dress shoes. Thrift store prices are cheap, but as a whole wardrobe it was still a bit costly.

"Sorry to make you pay so much," Wheatley apologized to Chell.

"It's no big deal," she said, "but you will have to get a job eventually."

Job. He didn't like the word, considering back in Aperure he seemed unwanted in most of his jobs, not being able to keep any one for very long, eventually being assigned the tedious job of taking care of the humans after GLaDOS died.

The rest of the day was wholly uneventful, after stopping for a meal and reading for a bit back at her house, Wheatley commented that it was getting a bit "dimpsy" outside and that he should go to bed early, leaving Chell to sleep on the couch for another night.

* * *

Wheatley stretched and yawned. It was the beginning of a new, safe day – his third out of Aperture. He put on his glasses and some of his new clothes and went downstairs to find that Chell was in the kitchen. Her hair was tied up and she was wearing a flour-dusted apron. There was a book on the small kitchen table, along with a bag of flour and another of sugar, a mixing bowl with a spoon in it, and various other containers.

"What're you doing?" he asked, catching her attention.

"I'm making cupcakes. Do you want to help?"

"Cupcakes? What're those?"

"You'll soon find out."

"Alright, how can I help?"

"Mix these." She handed him a small bowl with margarine and sugar in it. He started creaming the two substances together, setting the bowl on the table.

"There'll be some leftover for us," Chell added. She sifted the dry ingredients together in the large mixing bowl. "I'll need what you mixed up now, as well as – " she paused to open the fridge door and pull a carton out, "milk." Wheatley watched in admiration as she mixed the dry and wet ingredients together into a batter. She handled baking with a similar careful concentration she demonstrated approaching a new test. He had let his mind wander and was startled a bit when she spoke.

"Would you put the cupcake wrappers in the tin?" she asked, pointing at the items respectively.

"Like this?" he asked, putting one of the wrappers in the mold.

"It's upside-down." She said.

He fixed it and proceeded to fumblingly place the wrappers in their respective locations. She poured the batter evenly into all of them – Wheatley figured she must've been doing it for a while – and then placed them in the oven.

"How long will it take for them to er, bake?"

"Ten minutes or so. While we're waiting we should wash the dishes."

And so that was what they did, Chell washing and Wheatley drying. Drying, thought Wheatley, was a bit of a waste of time, considering the dishes could just as well dry themselves. Still, he was happy to help in any way he could. He wanted to show her that he could be so much better than he was in Aperture.

"So, why didn't you talk at all in Aperture?" he ventured.

"I don't like to talk about it – I suppose it was just an uncomfortable environment."

Detecting this as a hint to not question her further, he simply nodded. That was when the timer beeped. Chell pulled the cupcakes out of the oven and tested one with a toothpick. They were ready. She set the tins on the stovetop.

"Does that mean they're done?" asked Wheatley.

"Yes, but they need to cool," she said, taking the small cakes out and placing them on a cooling rack, "we can get started on the icing now. Could you get out the butter – do you know what that is?"

"No, not quite certain."

"Hold on," she said. She finished placing the cupcakes on the rack and pulled something out of the fridge. "This is butter," she said, showing the yellow-white sticks to him. It didn't look very appetizing. She swiftly put all of the ingredients for the chocolate icing into a bowl and started up the electric mixer. Wheatley backed off.

"Are you sure that's not dangerous?" Wheatley asked, his voice rising slightly to combat the noise.

"Yes."

Even if it were dangerous, Wheatley had to admit that it did its job efficiently. The smell of chocolate hung slightly in the air. "Let me take care of things from here," Chell said, taking the piping bags from a drawer. Wheatley rocked back and forth on his heels, excited to try the new dessert. Thinking that maybe someday he could work for Chell, he walked closer to to her to closer examine what she was doing and accidently bumped her hip. "S-sorry," he said, blushing profusely. She smiled, which he took as "It's okay."

She put the cupcakes that were to be sold in a box, leaving four for the two of them, which she placed on a plate on the coffee table in the other room.

"Do you want any milk?" she asked.

"Milk… that's, uh, the white liquid? It comes from a cow? I think I'll pass."

"It's a common ingredient in many things," she explained, "I suggest you try it." She poured herself a glass.

"Well, alright." She poured him a glass as well. He brought it up to his lips cautiously, taking a conservative sip. He shrugged. "It's okay. Say, can we eat the cupcakes now?"

She chuckled and led him over to the table. Wheatley was the first to clumsily peel the wrapper off the small cake and take a bite.

"Mmm – oh yes, that is good…" he said.

"You've got a bit of icing on your nose there." Chell said. Unexpectedly, she leaned forward as far as she could and gave him a small kiss on his nose, tasting the small bit of icing on her lips afterwards.

Wheatley touched his face in disbelief, as if that would somehow validate what had just happened.

But Wheatley did something even more improbable.

"You've got a bit of milk above your lip there, let me fix that for you." He pulled her forward and embraced her in a kiss.


End file.
